Forgetting You
by MusicMixerGURL
Summary: Arthur Kirkland had been in a coma for a week and now he couldn't remember anything that had happened the past 8 months. 8 long months. In that span of time it seemed he had gotten a boyfriend. And he didn't even remember being gay. "Do you even remember meeting me?" Alfred asked hopefully. To the American's dismay Arthur shook his head. "It's okay. We'll make them come back."
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_What are you doing?_

_Get away from there!_

_Do it!_

_Arthur watch out!_

His eyes felt heavy and his mind blurry, and his orbs were racing back and forth behind the closed lids. The voices echoed in his mind, confusing him with memories that gradually became unfamiliar and contradicted themselves.

_Don't die! _

_You're disgusting._

_Please don't die._

_Why don't you just disappear? _

_Please… come back to me…_

The voices off in the distance became closer, clearer. There was a familiarity to them but he couldn't make out what they were saying, their voices were somewhat distorted.

With a gasp he forced his eyes apart as his conscious slowly returned. Arthur blinked determined against the white light that streamed in, but his eyelids demonstratively closed themselves against the luminosity, darkening his vision again. _No_ he couldn't go back to sleep.

This time me managed to get his eyes half-lidded, blinking rapidly and lifted a hand to shadow for the dull light of the lamp above. He took a minute to calm down, his breathings rapid and loud. He didn't know where he was. His eyes sped around the room. White. White everywhere. A hospital?

He looked back and as he did he noticed his own arm. It was so thin, and pale. His eyes trailed further, staring at his own hand now. A long IV was attached to his wrist, and he turned his hand weakly in the air in wonder. His fingers felt so numb. He tried to make them move. The thumb twitched slightly. _What the hell was going on? _He let the hand drop.

"Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?" He let out a startled gasp and his eyes flickered around the room, until focusing on a nurse who entered from the door across the room, smiling at him. Yeah, Arthur Kirkland was his name. That's right. "How are you? Can you talk?"

Her accent. She had a British accent. That's right, he was in England. He was English. Arthur took a moment and licked his lips, before saying a rasping. "Yes."

The sound of his voice seemed to amuse her, because she let out a light chuckle. "Well, that's to be expected, you only had your tube removed yesterday." She wrote something down on a small board, and Arthur followed her movement with his eyes.

"What happened?" he rasped out, furrowing his eyebrows.

"You don't remember," the nurse said, more as a statement than a question, but Arthur decided to answer anyway.

He coughed and decided just to shake his head. The nurse nodded slowly, and wrote something else down, before she stepped even closer to Arthur and took a small pen out – except that it wasn't a pen, it was a tiny flash-light. Arthur winced when she lit it right in his eyes.

"Sorry," she mumbled, but continuously keeping it pointing right at his orbs. She sighed as she dropped the pen and wrote something down. Arthur opened his mouth to ask, but ended in another coughing fit and before he could gather himself again she was already answering. "It seems you have a case of amnesia, Mr. Kirkland."

_What the bloody hell is amnesia? _"What?" he rasped out.

"You lost a large part of your memory," she said and made an exaggerated dot on her page. She smiled down at him. "What's the last thing you remember?"

That was a hard one. "Um," Arthur began, rubbing his head. It was like the worst drunk-night ever, leaving a huge gab of memory. That's it! "I, um, work at a pub, in central London. I have worked there since I was eighteen."

"That's right," she nodded, but apparently it wasn't important enough to be written in the notes. "Do you remember a person named Alfred Jones?" she asked him. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Um, no," Arthur admitted. The name wasn't familiar.

"Alright," she said, standing up again, still wearing a smile. "Please try to rest while I bring you something to eat."

"H-hold on," Arthur breathed out, and she stopped in the doorway, looking back at him in question.

"Yes?"

Arthur swallowed, before slowly managing to speak again. "Who is Alfred Jones?"

She smiled sadly at him, and held her board closer to her chest. "He's your boyfriend."

The words seemed to hang in the air for several minuets before Arthur comprehended them.

"He's my… _what_?"

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**Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you would want chapters. :) **


	2. Meeting My Boyfriend

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**ValeurStories, Xaphrielle, xIggyXAlfredx , darkangels1112 and SarahValeur**

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**Chapter 1**

**Meeting My Boyfriend**

Arthur took a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the pillow in the white hospital room. This was the worst feeling imaginable. Arthur Kirkland had been in a coma for a week and now he couldn't remember anything that had happened the past 8 months. 8 _long_ months. In that span of time it seemed he had gotten a _boyfriend_. And he didn't even remember being _gay_.

He hadn't been allowed visitors for these past 3 days while they were running tests and helping him through recovery. His doctors wanted to be certain how severe his case of amnesia was. They had asked him so many questions this past 3 days that he felt mentally exhausted.

But today. Today this 'Alfred Jones' had been allowed to see him, and he didn't know what to do about it. At first he had considered to decline the offer with some ghastly excuse, but that would probably only postpone it.

They had told him that he had been in an accident, but still not what kind, and it was annoying the bloody hell out of him. He just wanted-

Arthur was snapped out of his thoughts when two even knocks was heard from the door. He rushed to sit up when the door opened, staring intensely at the entrance. Was he already here? His 'boyfriend'. He didn't feel ready at all. Someone entered.

He stood about 5'7, balding in the middle of his head and what little hair he _did_ have around the edges was graying. Arthur's eyes quickly landed on the name embroidered on the lapel… '_Dr_. _Burley'_? Arthur breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was just a doctor who had entered.

"Hello Arthur, how are you feeling?" he asked, with the usual smile that all staff in this building seemed required to wear.

The Brit nodded very slowly. "I feel better."

"Your voice has returned to normal too, I see. That's good," the doctor said with a smile. Then he took a seat in front of the patient. "Do you remember any new things, Arthur?" his face suddenly seemed serious, and all business. "Do you remember anything past June?"

Arthur shook my head. "No. Nothing past June," He looked outside and frowned slightly. He had actually missed summer, fall and most of winter.

"I see," the doctor answered with a nod. "Arthur, I have brought your boyfriend with me today, Alfred Jones, he's right outside the door."

_Bollocks_. Arthur tensed. "He is?"

"Yes, and he have been waiting a very long time to see you," the doctor smiled warmly, but Arthur looked absolutely horrified by the statement.

"Is that so," he said very slowly. He wondered what kind of person his… _boyfriend_ was. Bloody hell, no matter how many times me thought about it, it never seemed natural. For god's sake, he had never had an official boyfriend in his life.

"Would you like me to send him in?" the doctor asked Arthur, suddenly looked questioning.

_No! _"Y-yes," Arthur said stiffly and furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't even know how this person looked, would it be wrong to be disappointed when he entered? What kind of person would be interested in him? Arthur had never seen himself as 'good-looking', and he wasn't super wealthy either. Who was this person?

The doctor seemed happy with his decision.

"I'll let you guys have about half an hour, and then I'm coming to check on you," he told Arthur. The blonde tensed again. _Half an hour_, that was _long_. What was he supposed to say in all this time.

The doctor exited the door and Arthur heard voices outside the door.

"_Alfred Jones_?" the doctor called.

A chair scraped loudly against the floor outside. "Can I go in?" the voice seemed hasting and concerned. Was that an _American_ accent? Was this person American? A foreigner. Arthur swallowed, _staring_ at the door.

"Yes, he is ready to see you now if you would like."

Running steps. He was _running_? Arthur grabbed around the covers on the bed unintentionally. The door was opened in a rush, and a man stepped in. His blue eyes darted around the room, but when he saw Arthur they immediately locked and a wide smile spread on his lips.

"Thank god you're alright, Artie!" was the first thing he blurted out.

Arthur blinked twice, not even responding to the words, and just measured the person who had entered. He mentally hoped that he could get any signs of recognition but there wasn't any. Arthur stared at Alfred as if he was seeing him for the very first time…studying him.

Though he was convinced he wasn't gay, looking at Alfred, he could see how if he _were -_ which he is definitely _not -_ he would be with Alfred. Alfred was tall, bright and quite handsome, Arthur had to admit that. Medium build and blonde hair, with deep blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. What the hell were _they_ doing together?

"How do you feel?" Alfred asked as he neared the bed. Yes, he was definitely American, Arthur noted. His accent was unmistakable, butchering the English he knew. Then he realized he hadn't answered the question.

"Um," Arthur said flatly, trying to figure out a proper way to say '_are you serious_?' "I feel quite… puzzled."

Alfred nodded slowly, still wearing a slight smile. "I figured. It's so nice hearing your voice again," He looked back up, obviously struggling to suppress a question. "Do you.. do you even remember _meeting_ me?" he asked hopefully. Alfred most have been informed that Arthur did not remember him. To the American's dismay Arthur shook his head.

"No, sorry."

Alfred was not pleased with that. "We meet in that ba- _pub_ that you own."

"I see," Arthur said slowly, not knowing what else to say.

"I ordered a coke and you raised an eyebrow at me," he continued, his very faint smile never fading off. "You asked me, why I went to a pub to buy a coke, when I could get it cheaper in a convenience store. Remember? Then I told you that I just wanted a quiet place to be and we started talking. Mostly me."

He had obviously practiced how to explain this to Arthur, so almost felt bad about shaking his head.

"Sorry, I do not remember that," Arthur said slowly.

Alfred lifted a hand to touch his, but halfway seemed to change direction and put it on his shoulder instead. "It's okay. We'll make them come back."

Arthur frowned. "Um," he began, not really knowing how to tell him that he wasn't actually gay, but Alfred interrupted him.

"I'll ask the doctors to bring you home soon," he grinned. "You most be pretty tired of wearing that hospital clothes and eating bad food. Although… your own cooking isn't much better."

"What?" Arthur spat. "My cooking is just bloody fine!"

Alfred laughed, and now took courage and touched his hand. Arthur's eyes darted to his hand and he was about to move it, but when his eyes met Alfred's he let it be.

"I'm glad you're not completely changed," he said and smiled. Arthur looked away, having no response to that.

Alfred looked at him for a moment, Arthur didn't know what he was thinking and kept his eyes absent. The American suddenly stood up, making Arthurs eyes dart back in question.

"I'm going to talk to the doctor for a second," he said with a smile. Arthur nodded in relief and watched him exit the door. He tiredly let his head fall back on the pillow. This was too much. This Alfred didn't seem like a bad person, but he just didn't swing that way. And to be honest, he was pretty annoying.

Arthur sighed, letting his eyelids rest for just a moment.

oOo oOo

The English-man looked up at the grinning blonde holding his empty glass over the bar. Arthur sighed and filled it up again with regular coke.

"You know, you could-"

"-get it cheaper at the convenience store. Yeah, you said already, Artie," the blonde American chuckled. Arthur rolled his eyes and put the bottle down on the table.

"It's Arthur." Arthur said and grabbed a cloth to dry of a glass behind the bar.

"All right, sorry Arti- Thur." Alfred grinned. He was obviously used to getting his way with that grin. But it bloody well _wasn't_ going to work with Arthur. Although he had tried very determined these past days. "Come have a drink with us."

Arthur's head tilted to see the few people that Alfred had arrived with, sitting by a table a little away. One of them looked very similar to Alfred, so he was guessing it was his brother or something, but unlike Alfred he looked a little less bubbly. There were also a very blonde man with long hair. He had taken the rose from the vase on the table and apparently held a small speech for the other about something that made the other American– at least he was assuming he was – blush furiously and made the last one break out in loud laughter. Arthur raised an eyebrow at the last one, he seemed to be wearing a wide grin as well, but not even similar to Alfred's, and he also looked like an albino. Yeah, none of those was his kind of people – not that a lot of people were.

"Thank you, but no. I'm working."

"I thought you owned the place. Let someone else pour the drinks for a while. Take a load off."

Another irritating thing. That _ridiculous_ accent. Alfred seemed to be able to stretch every word into seven syllables. Arthur suppressed his irritation, and attempted to be polite.

"Thank you again, but I'm afraid that we're very busy today."

Suddenly a white flash seemed to pass through the scene and dazzlingly Arthur seemed transfer to a new location.

He glanced at the door to the pub. He was locking it up with his key, finally able to get some rest for the night. He was exhausted. People had stayed at the bar until very late, and the sun was peeking over the horizon already.

"Artie!" a voice called behind him, and almost in a daze he turned around to see who had called him, eyes heavy and drowsy. Not that he was surprised when he saw the familiar grin and bomber jacket, since Alfred Jones was the only person alive who would dare to call him 'Artie'.

"Alfred, I'm not in the mood for _anything_, so couldn't you leave me alone," he sad flatly.

The blonde never seemed to get hurt by anything he said. Instead of snapping back like a normal human being, he just smiled and walked closer. Seemingly ignoring completely what he had just said.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have some breakfast."

Arthur looked at him, with utter annoyance. "This is a pub."

"I know," Alfred said and rolled his eyes. "It doesn't have to be here."

"No thank you."

"Do you ever eat?"

"Yes."

"When did you last eat?"

"I make food at home," Arthur said simply.

"But you work at the pub from 6," Alfred said, lifting an eyebrow as he thought about it. "And I have never seen you eat there, and then you work until late, or should I say early. You go home and sleep – probably sleeping past breakfast and lunch-"

"Biggie! I do not eat that often, I am not dead am I?" Arthur said and with a roll of his eyes he strolled right past Alfred, heading for his place.

"I'll pay for the food," Alfred said and Arthur groaned as the American started to fall into his pace.

"No thank you."

"Oh, but I insist!"

Arthur almost let out a gasp in surprised when Alfred grabbed around his arm and pulled him along. "H-hey! You-" he stopped as he looked up at Alfred's face. He looked… so happy. He swallowed and without another word the Brit let himself get dragged along.

oOo oOo

Arthur opened his eyes abruptly, when a flash of agony thundered through his skull. His orbs filled with confusion for a second, but then twisted in torture. The Brit clasped his head in his hands, trying to stop it from exploding. He let out a hissed breath from gritted teeth, sitting up in the bed and leaned over in pain. He let out a sob by the throbbing, and felt tears prickle behind his eyes, clenching them tight in anger.

He kept his face in his hands for a moment. His head was hurting like crazy, spinning and aching. It was like someone had taken a hammer and with all their strength striking at his skull again and again.

He opened his eyes and leapt a little when he saw someone sitting right beside him.

"Arthur?" a sleepy voice asked, and the Brit watched in horror as _Alfred Jones_ rubbed his eyes. Had he been sleeping here all night? Arthur didn't even remember falling asleep. He felt something touch his arm and jumped slightly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he hissed back and hurried to lay back down on the bed, almost panicking.

"You sure?" he sounded incredibly tired.

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur said and turned around in his bed, so his back was faced Alfred. "Nothing. I'm going to sleep."

His eyes were wide open, as he listened to Alfred sigh and sit back in the chair. He bit the inside of his cheek. Because there was absolutely no way he could ever fall asleep now.

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**Alright, Alfred will be getting Arthur home in the next chapter. Can you guess who Alfred's three friends in the dream were? :) **

**Thank you for reading! Hope you liked and please review. :) **


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